The Adventures of 221B
by insideouttuoedisni
Summary: Another 221B fic. Enjoy!
1. Blasphemy

**A/N: I've always wanted to try one of these. I haven't a clue whether I'll be any good at it or not though. I will update this as frequently as I can if it turns out people are enjoying it. Side note: I am going by the word count from Microsoft Word, not the one on this website. Just to let you know.**

All characters here belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, not me.

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"Well of course the maid did it. She is the only logical suspect. Think man!" Holmes barked. He did not like to be interrogated about cases.

"But…. but what if it wasn't her at all? I feel that the innkeeper down the street had a remarkable opportunity. And motive as well. If it was the maid, how do you account for the knife marks on the window ledge? I'm not sure that I follow your reasoning," Watson admitted.

"No matter. I shall explain later. Come along, Watson. Lestrade wanted us to be present for the hanging."

The case had been a difficult one, certainly. The week before, a brutal murder took place in an Earl's house just outside of London. Holmes had immediately declared the matter a trivial one, betting that he could assign proper blame within a day.

The maid did seem like a suspicious character. The Earl employed Eloise Thatcher only two months previously. It was said that she didn't get along well with the other servants. Upon closer examination, Holmes discovered she had also been severely mistreated by the Earl.

Now, as the noose was lowered around the young woman's neck, Watson could not help but feel a trace of doubt. Even Holmes made mistakes at times. But to speak out against the great detective was almost blasphemy.

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**You would do me a great favour by reviewing. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Biscuits

**A/N: I took some advice from Werepanther33 and tried to make this one a little more lighthearted. I also might put another one up later today, if all goes well.**

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Biscuits

After the third night of hearing the awful squeals of Holmes' violin, I decided to take action.

While Holmes was out prowling London, I snuck over to his room. Carefully, I padded over to the violin case resting on top of the bed.

Case in hand, I stealthily descended to the kitchen. After "the incident" Holmes was no longer allowed near the food. I felt that our landlady's fearsome wrath would be enough to deter Holmes in his search.

I must say I was rather pleased with myself that evening as I prepared for bed, and much needed sleep.

Of course it was to my surprise that at a little after three in the morning I began to hear the familiar shrieks coming from below. I ran downstairs to find Holmes sitting in his chair with the violin strewn across his lap. He smiled at the startled expression on my face.

"I deduced that you were upset with my playing, and so you must have hidden it. The pantry was a rather obvious choice. If you didn't know, I happen to frequent the kitchen. I feel it necessary to practice a bit of criminality every so often, in order to truly understand crook's psyche. And besides, it was a mistake for you to put my violin so close to the biscuits."


	3. Bagel

**A/N: I appreciate the reviews I have been getting. Thank you. This one isn't particularly good, but I wanted to continue updating. So continuing along the food theme...**

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**Bagel**

My friend looked awful.

Over the years I had come to know his moods and habits. I could tell by his gaunt frame that he was deep in the midst of an important case. His skin was pale and sagging, his hair tousled. Only his eyes still held the same steely glaze.

He sat across the breakfast table from me. His plate was empty, and by his face I could tell he was in one of his working fits and had not eaten in days.

Concern rose within me. I threw down the paper I was pretending to read, and I dared to interrupt Holmes' thoughts. Normally I would not have the nerve, but this time I couldn't restrain myself.

"Holmes" I whispered, still hesitant to interrupt his reverie. He continued to stare, lost in his thoughts.

"Holmes!" I tried again, louder. Still no response. I reached out a hand and grabbed his arm. Holmes jumped back from my touch, his eyes darting wildly back and forth across the room. His look turned from surprise to anger as he noticed me.

"What?"

"You need to eat something Holmes. I'm worried about you. This case, whatever it may be, is not more important than your health."

To my great surprise he did not object. He merely nodded and reached for a bagel.


End file.
